


it's a sad song (it's a love song)

by orphan_account



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: And Orpheus only physically shows up at the end, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Eurydice, F/M, Persephone and Hades are there for .2 seconds, Post-Canon, The character death is a good thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 09:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eurydice paints and thinks about Orpheus.
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	it's a sad song (it's a love song)

It had been another hard day of work at the mine. Things have gotten slightly better, shorter hours and a less strict foreman. But the situation is still far from perfect, or even good.

Eurydice returns to her home, or what passes for a home in the Underworld. She sits down and sighs. Even though she’s dead, her muscles still find a way to ache. She misses being up above. Misses sunlight and fresh air and laughter. And she also misses  _ him _ .

She shouldn’t, she knows that. He had left her, had turned at the last moment, just when Eurydice had thought they’d make it out. Orpheus had doubted her, doubted their love, but that doesn’t stop Eurydice from longing for him.

There’s a knock on the door, Eurydice stands up, surprised. Down here, no one visits each other. She walks over to the door and opens it. 

There’s no one there, and Eurydice almost closes the door when she notices something lying in front of it. There, on the small step between the house and the ground, are some paints, paintbrushes, sheets of paper, and an easel. She looks at them in shock before dragging them in.

And Eurydice knows that nothing comes for free, there’s always a price. This is very likely some ploy to fool Eurydice into doing something. But a voice in the back of her head whispers, “ _ What if it’s not a trap? _ ” It sounds a bit like Orpheus.

Eurydice sets the easel up with a sheet of paper and cracks open one of the paints. She dips a paintbrush in before realizing that she doesn’t know what she wants to paint. She washes off the paintbrush and closes the paint. But she leaves the easel and paper up.

Eurydice walks over to her bed and lies down. She drifts off to sleep, and tries not to dream of Orpheus.

.

.

.

Eurydice leaves the painting materials untouched for the next few days. She gets up, goes to work, comes home, and sleeps. Beginning the cycle again the next day. Carefully avoiding looking at the easel in the corner of her room.

The thing is, Eurydice has always loved to paint. She learned when she was young. From a woman who she thinks might have been her mother. She remembers learning how to choose and blend colors. How to smoothen lines and show light. Those had been her happiest memories before she met Orpheus.

Eurydice has always wanted to paint Orpheus. From the moment she met the wonderful boy who wore his heart on his sleeve and wanted to bring the world back into tune. But before, there had been no time. And now, now it would be too painful.

.

.

.

Persephone comes back a week later. Eurydice is surprised, it hadn’t felt like half a year. But time passes weirdly in Hadestown, and Eurydice’s life has become a monotonous blur.

Eurydice seeks out Persephone in her bar. She sees her, making drinks for tired workers. Eurydice takes a seat and waits for Persephone to come over.

“How is he?” Is the first thing she says. She shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t care. But she needs to know.

Persephone sighs, she knows exactly who Eurydice is asking about. “Not well,” She says, “He doesn’t sing anymore.”

Something in Eurydice breaks at that. She starts sobbing, loud and ugly. Persephone slides into the seat next to her, and wraps Eurydice in her arms.

“Hush,” she says, “It will be fine. Your story is not yet over.” 

She holds Eurydice until Eurydice can pull herself together again. When Eurydice finally stops crying, Persephone gently lets her go.

Persephone reaches into her pocket and pulls something out. “He asked me to give this to you,” She says, before pressing it into Eurydice’s hand. She squeezes Eurydice’s shoulder before standing up and walking away.

Once Persephone is out of sight, Eurydice opens her hand. In it is a red flower. 

.

.

.

The next day, Eurydice comes home after work and finally starts painting. She outlines a boy, staring off into the distance and strumming a lyre. It’s only when she starts coloring in his red neckerchief that she realizes who she’s painting.

Eurydice is angry. She’s angry at Orpheus, and she’s angry with herself for missing him. She’s angry that he left her, and she’s angry that she can’t remember the exact color of his eyes.

Eurydice throws down her paintbrush, not bothering to wash it off, and walks to the other side of the room, turning away from the painting. She ignores the way the flower in her pocket feels like it’s burning.

.

.

.

Things are changing in Hadestown. Now, every hour they get five minute breaks. And for two days out of the week, they get to stay home and not work.

The work is still grueling, and the conditions still terrible, but things are moving forward. One step at a time.

.

.

.

Eurydice starts a new painting. She paints a bar with a crooked sign on the front. Flowers grow near it, wild and free. Inside, people are laughing, cheering, and drinking. Everyone is happy and safe.

She spends hours on the painting. But it doesn’t matter, since this is the “weekend,” as some of the other workers call it. Eurydice paints all the details, the whites and browns of the patrons’ faces. The sunlight falling upon the bar, making it look homey. The bartender with a mischievous smile.

Eurydice paints the flowers blue and yellow and orange. Pink and purple. Gray, black, and every color except red.

.

.

.

The workers are whispering among themselves. Eurydice gets closer and tries to hear what they’re saying. The news shocks her.

“Lord Hades has stopped construction on the wall.” An old man says.

“But why?” A younger woman asks. Eurydice can tell she hasn’t been here long. Her hands still have color.

“It’s because of the poet.” Another man says. Many voices echo this.

“It’s the poet. The poet has helped us.”

Eurydice cries when she hears it, but this time it’s out of happiness. It hadn’t all been for nothing. Orpheus had softened Hades. Had reminded the King of his heart. And now, they don’t have to build the wall anymore.

That night, when Eurydice goes home, she finds her half-finished painting of Orpheus. She doesn’t work on it at all. Just stares at it for a long, long time and lets herself think about him.

.

.

.

Persephone is going back. It’s been a year now, since it happened. Since Orpheus turned back. Yet when Eurydice thinks of it, she can’t muster up any anger anymore. It’s been a long, long year, and she doesn’t want to spend her afterlife dwelling.

Eurydice catches Persephone at the train station before she leaves. She takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Tell him that I forgive him.”

Persephone stares at her for a long second before nodding. “He’ll be glad to hear it.”

The train pulls in, and Persephone gets on it. She smiles at Eurydice before disappearing from sight.

.

.

.

Hades calls Eurydice into his office. She looks around warily, the last time she was in here, she signed her life away.

“Please, sit down.” Hades gestures to the chair across from his desk. Eurydice keeps standing.

“What do you want?” She asks.

“I’m renegotiating all of the contracts.” Hades says, he hands her a manila folder. She opens it and sees a stack of papers, stapled together. 

“I need time to look it over.” Eurydice says. She’s not making the same mistake twice.

She expects Hades to get mad. Say something about how she’s wasting his time. But instead he just nods. “Take as much time as you need.”

Eurydice goes home and reads over the contract. She circles the things she doesn’t understand and underlines the things she doesn’t agree with, writing alternatives in the margins. By the time she’s done, the contract is all marked up. 

She thinks Orpheus would be proud of her.

.

.

.

Eurydice is almost done with her painting of Orpheus. She’s added shadows and contrast and finished most of the coloring. The only thing left is his eyes.

She mixes together colors and tries to get the shade down. But it looks wrong every time. Eurydice sighs and puts down her makeshift palette, suddenly exhausted.

She hears the train whistle from far away, Persephone is back. It’s been a year and a half. Eurydice misses Orpheus more than anything.

.

.

.

Persephone seeks Eurydice out this time. She knocks on Eurydice’s door and smiles when Eurydice lets her in.

“He’s singing again,” She says, “He sings for you.”

Eurydice grins. She pulls out the flower in her pocket and holds it close to her. She closes her eyes and for a second, she thinks she can hear the echo of a tune.

.

.

.

There’s a commotion at the train station, the workers are talking about it. Eurydice wonders what it could be. Persephone left recently, marking two years since the turn. And Hadestown has improved by leaps and bounds, meaning souls no longer dread arriving.

Eurydice suddenly feels a presence behind her. She turns and sees Hades standing there, as imposing as ever, but lighter somehow. If it wasn’t so ridiculous, Eurydice would say Hades looks happy.

“Follow me.” Hades says and starts walking. Eurydice does. 

Hades leads her to the train station, where someone is yelling. When she gets a little closer she can distinguish the words.

“I’m not going! Not until I see her.”

And oh. She’d know that voice anywhere. Orpheus is here. Eurydice starts running, she doesn’t stop until she sees him.

Orpheus is standing at the station, arguing with Hermes. He’s covered in scratches, and his clothes are tattered. But he’s real, and he’s standing there. Eurydice launches herself into his arms.

She looks at him and sees his eyes for the first time in two years. And how could she have ever forgotten them when they’re the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. Orpheus looks back at her and smiles so wide it splits his face.

“It’s you,” He breathes out.

“It’s me,” She agrees. 

Orpheus puts Eurydice down and grabs her hand. They walk side by side to Hadestown, turning to look at each other as often as they want.

**Author's Note:**

> I've read many versions of the myth, and none mention how long it was between Orpheus turning and his death, so I just made it two years for the sake of the story. Also, comment or leave kudos if you liked this :)


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